


A Gold Star in His Crown

by JazTheBard



Series: Silmaril Theft Fae AU [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fae, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Dubiously Consensual Adoption, Elf Culture & Customs, Found Family, Gen, Gil-Galad is Fingon and Mae's Son, Implied Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Kidnap Dads, Misunderstandings, More characters and tags as story progresses, POV Outsider, and he does not know that, eldritch peredhil, renaissance and baroque dance listen i PROMISE it's relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/pseuds/JazTheBard
Summary: The Silmarils have been stolen. So has Elrond, on the very same night, and the only trace left of those who took them is a note in Maglor's handwriting.Years later, after Elros has gone after his brother and never returned, Gil-Galad goes to reclaim his young kinsmen from their second captivity in Faerie.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond Peredhel & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Ereinion Gil-galad, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elros Tar-Minyatur/Elros Tar-Minyatur's Wife, Ereinion Gil-galad & Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Silmaril Theft Fae AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114283
Comments: 180
Kudos: 88





	1. Prologue: Gloomy was the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! new fic time! i realize it sounds a LOT like my other fics but it's not entirely the same lol
> 
> anyway i don't have a huge chapter buffer so updates will not be very regular, but i really wanted to post this so here's the prologue and chapter 1!
> 
> all of my chapter titles are lyrics from versions of Tam Lin, as is the title. thank you tam-lin.org i owe u my life

Elrond was missing.

Elrond was missing, and the Silmarils were gone, and these things were connected; they had to be.

He and Elros had been returned to their kinsman the High King six months ago, as a show of goodwill on the part of the Sons of Fëanor, who had these past two weeks been at turns threatening and pleading with the Maia Eönwë for the Silmarils.

(Everyone carefully did not speculate on what the twins had endured, at least, not where they might hear. They refused to speak of it.)

Last night had been normal. There was an air of celebration, as there had been since Morgoth fell, and the twin princes had retired early, citing the strangeness of their new existences as a mortal and an immortal rather than a pair of nebulous neither-one-nor-the-other youths. The revelry wound down, and folk slept. Including, for an unknown reason, both the sentries and those who had been guarding the Silmarils.

When they awoke, the box containing the jewels lay empty, but for note left in it, recognizably in Maglor's hand. It read simply, "Thank you for returning what is ours."

The alarm was raised.

It was not until an hour later that anyone realized Elrond had been taken, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! please leave comments and kudos if you liked it :)


	2. The Stars Burnt Bright as Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elrond disappears, Elros disappears, and Gil-Galad also disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1 here we go!
> 
> ocs: dramhor, name means "hewer"
> 
> here we get a small snippet of my Elf Hair Headcanons which will be discussed in detail later! elros wears hair coverings of some kind almost all the time

High King Gil-Galad knocked on Elros's door, which was promptly answered by the young -- not just a half-elf anymore -- young Man.

Elros smiled. "Can I help you, cousin?" His dark hair was uncustomarily uncovered, and Gil-Galad realized it was very early in the morning. He had probably been woken only by the alarm.

"I am sorry, I can -- I can come back later--"

"It is no trouble. What has happened? I heard the commotion."

Gil-Galad paused before speaking. "Have you seen your brother?"

"Not this morning. Is he not in his room?"

"He is..." Gil-Galad trailed off. "The Silmarils were stolen last night by the Sons of Fëanor. And so, it seems, was he."

Elros froze. "What? No. No, he cannot be gone!"

"Did you not hear anything?" said Gil-Galad, trying to be gentle.

"No, nothing. He sometimes -- he sleeps less now, so at times he wakes and goes for a walk in the camp. He must have done that last night. I just -- why would they--"

"I am sorry," said Gil-Galad, though it would hardly help.

Elros sobbed. "Why could they not have taken _me?"_

Why had they taken Elrond at all? Unless he had caught them in the act -- but everyone had suddenly fallen asleep last night, hadn't they? And, as cruel as it was to think it, they could simply have killed him.

There _had_ to be a reason they had taken him.

(Maybe they merely disliked leaving loose ends, and had stolen him only to kill him.)

In any case, they would have to get him back if they could, though there was nothing they could trade. Gil-Galad hugged a crying Elros and tried to think.

* * *

Elros was withdrawn, after that. He spent most of his time alone or in the company of Men, some of whom had accompanied him and Elrond in their parting from the Fëanorians. Unlike the elves who had once followed the Sons of Fëanor, the Men had not disappeared the night after the theft.

When asked about his years of captivity (by Men, he never answered the elves), he always said a variation on the same thing: that the time seemed dreamlike, as if it had not been real, and his memories were hazy and distorted.

And when people inevitably pressed for details, he would say he had not been hurt there, not that he could recall, not by anyone.

The Men with him said the same things, how it had all felt so real at the time but now something had changed. The other mortals, those who had not been there, nodded and murmured something about the Fair Folk.

Years passed.

Gil-Galad eventually got an explanation for what the Fair Folk were, and it was not comforting to think that Maedhros and Maglor were of that ilk. It was, however, a potential reason for the second kidnapping of Elrond, given the reported propensity for stealing children.

Privately, he thought that it must have a more practical reason, but could not come up with one other than "revenge."

One day, Elros left, saying he would get his brother back.

He did not return.

Years passed.

By following Elros's trail, they had found the place that the kinslayers had gone, somewhere in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but no one could enter it. All were stopped by some invisible force from getting near; no one yet had even laid eyes on the dwelling.

Some Men claimed to have been there, but their tales were fantastical and could not be believed, so Gil-Galad discounted them.

The twins were dead. Hopefully, anyway, for if they lived still -- what horrors could they have faced before, that their minds destroyed the knowledge? How much worse would it be now that they were no longer useful?

The rumors multiplied.

The princes were dead -- no, they were alive, how else could the kinslayers take revenge for Elwing's actions -- they were as good as dead anyway, their minds turned and the twins unable to disobey their captors -- dead, and evil magic binding their souls to the Silmarils -- alive, alive and never to be freed because it brought the murderers happiness to hurt them over and over, to destroy any spark of goodness in the world -- trapped forever by fae enchantment, unable even to _want_ to leave --

Gil-Galad would go himself, this time, and do anything in his power to return his young kinsmen to either safety or a proper burial.

(Not for the first time he wished that someone else could have been king. If only someone _other_ than Orodreth could have adopted him!)

* * *

He led his group of soldiers eastwards, to the place the rumors spoke of.

(He tried not to think about the _content_ of those rumors.)

The woods grew thicker as they approached, and more shadowy, as if the trees were constricting around them and cutting off the sky. Gil-Galad shivered. The night was long; he felt as if several days had passed without a sunrise.

He saw a path just ahead, and beside it a standing stone. It looked like the trees thinned there. He hurried forward.

Dramhor, his captain, grabbed his arm to stop him. “Slowly,” they said. “At the stone is the first boundary. A diplomat or two got past it, but as far as we can tell, no one who means harm can cross.”

Gil-Galad walked towards the stone, more cautiously now. He knew he did not intend violence towards anyone within, but would it interpret his motives differently? He had come in the hopes of bringing his young cousins home, if they yet lived, which the Fëanorians might call theft.

Nonetheless, he passed by the standing stone and found no resistance, but felt a strange magic wash over him. It did not seem harmful, merely... curious.

Most of the soldiers were stopped at the boundary, but Dramhor and a few others were able to continue. The ones, he supposed, who harbored no intention of revenge.

The path led them to a small river, one of many, it seemed, judging by the sounds of water from all directions. An elegant bridge sat atop the river, its walk of plain wood but its handrails strange.

They were curving and delicate things, decorative, and began on the near side as wrought iron, before slowly changing to gold as it approached the far side.

Gil-Galad set foot upon the bridge, but could take no more than two steps. Something weighed him down suddenly, and he could go no further, only turn around and return to the riverbank.

"What was that?" he asked, feeling almost out of breath. "Everything became so heavy!"

Dramhor nodded. "The next barrier. This one is different. You cannot cross if you carry iron; it is dangerous to the fae."

"I do not like the idea of going in unarmed."

Dramhor reached into their pocket and pulled out a small knife. "This is flint," they said. "It will cross the bridge with you, though your armor and other blades will not."

None of the other soldiers were willing to divest themselves of protection, so they remained behind as Gil-Galad and Dramhor crossed the bridge.

This time there was no heaviness at all, but another magic running up his limbs to his center like some sort of small lightning strike. The sensation felt more threatening than the previous boundary spell, as if the magic was working its way deep into him for later use.

"Will they be safe there?" he said.

"I believe so," said Dramhor, still shuddering from the feel of the spell. "I was left behind there once, and no harm came to me."

They followed the path onwards, which grew wider as the trees fell away, and soon became paved with silvery flagstones, as if welcoming them. Then they came near to a peak of a hill, and a line of mushrooms growing across the path and extending as far as the eye could see.

"No one has yet crossed this boundary," said Dramhor in a hushed voice. "It continues all the way around, I think, and we know not what will let someone pass. Look." They reached a hand out, but could extend it no further than the line of mushrooms. "The body rebels against the mind -- no force of will can make me cross."

Gil-Galad approached warily. When he was as close as Dramhor, a third magic brushed him. Its scrutiny burrowed into him, as if laying all his secrets bare.

But he continued walking, and he did not stop, not even as he crossed into the ring.

Gil-Galad entered the realm of Faerie.

* * *

Five hours later, Dramhor saw the king, who had disappeared the moment he entered, stumble out dizzily.

"They live," he breathed, nearly falling. "They live!"

Dramhor caught him. "Truly?"

"I saw them. Already my thoughts grow confused, my recollection strange, but they live!"

The soldiers by the bridge had been waiting a week when Gil-Galad and Dramhor reappeared; those outside the standing stone had waited only a day.

Gil-Galad had been inside for nearly a month, if his sense of time could be trusted, with all the terrible and wondrous things that make up life in the land of the Fair Folk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! please leave comments and kudos :)


	3. Louder, Louder, Rang the Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gil-Galad enters Faerie and meets the Fairy Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so full disclosure this whole part of the story was meant to be a couple chapters tops but i'm currently writing ch8 and he still hasn't freaking left so settle in i guess! he has to come back again later and goodness knows how many chapters that'll take!
> 
> also i refuse to apologize for the tra-la-lally song
> 
> translations:  
> wilwarindë: "butterfly," feminine name

The first thing Gil-Galad heard was music. Music, and joyous ringing bells.

He blinked and looked around himself. It was not so different from where he had been just before, but somehow more vivid than anything he had ever seen: the trees greener, the sky bluer, the countless unfamiliar flowers beyond vibrant in colors he could not name. The air was sweet, and he felt that the glories of this strange world might well be infinite -- he had never set foot on the shores of the Blessed Land, but surely it must be like this!

A figure approached him, one who might appear elven if not for her golden butterfly-like wings. The way she moved, too, was strange, as if walking upon the ground were merely an affectation and not her natural manner.

"Greetings to you, Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor," she said, bowing. "Welcome to the realm of Imladris."

He bowed in return. "Greetings, my lady."

She laughed like the merry rustling of leaves in the wind. "Call me Wilwarindë, your majesty! Now follow me, I shall take you to the court where you will be an honored guest."

Apparently having no other choice, he followed her up the path, which was now paved in an almost golden stone, the flagstones glittering in the sunlight.

They crested the hill, and at last he beheld the Faerie land of Imladris, home of those Fair Folk under Fëanorian rule. It was the most beautiful city he had ever seen, though he had seen few beautiful places in war-torn Beleriand.

It was -- it was like nothing he could have dreamed! Green fields and orchards gave way to elegant architecture, all filigreed columns and shining surfaces. One of the pavilions floated in the air, untroubled by thoughts of gravity; a house there was, entangled in twining vines that either held it up or tethered it to the earth; a pool glimmered that looked to be filled with moonlight! There were buildings of crystal, of blown glass, of marble and gold!

And above it all rang the bells, louder and louder as they approached, from every impossible tower.

He saw people dancing in the valley below, and all around as he descended the hillside, and not a one of them appeared to be an elf or Man or dwarf, but strange creatures like Wilwarindë.

Then he heard their song coming from all sides:

_ O! Where are you going, _

_ And what are you doing? _

_ The sunlight is glowing, _

_ The springtime renewing! _

_ O! tra-la-la-lally, come into the valley, _

_ ha! ha! _

"They sing for you," said Wilwarindë. "We do not get many visitors, as a rule. But do not stay gawking! You must come to the court, to meet their majesties."

Every moment he saw a new wonder, but kept himself from slowing. Soon they came to the largest building, practically a palace, which must be the court. The doors lay open, inviting, and they entered.

The interior of the palace was lit not by candles but countless floating lights that filled the air, and on the walls hung tapestries that seemed almost to glow. She led him down a hallway made of glass, where flower petals swirled through the air on an unfelt breeze, and to a great set of double doors, which opened before her without even the barest touch.

Gil-Galad did not notice the room, wondrous though it was, or the Court in all its finery. His gaze was drawn only to the great dais at the end of the room, where sat the Sons of Fëanor -- no, that name was no longer sufficient.

They were the Fairy Kings.

The famed red hair of King Maedhros fell in a great flame-like braid, ornamented with countless jewels, down to the floor beside his golden throne, and King Maglor held before him a harp of bone, whose strange music ceased as Gil-Galad entered.

Spellbound, he could not move his eyes from them, but he noticed that below their seats, a mere step down on the dais, were a second pair of thrones, smaller but no less ornate. Upon them, as richly dressed and otherworldly as the kings, sat Elros and Elrond.

(There was no sign anywhere of the Silmarils.)

Gil-Galad’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing the twins, but he hid his shock as best he could and bowed deeply. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me entry to your land." Elrond and Elros were alive! At least, it appeared so; they breathed, if nothing else, and appeared unhurt.

To his surprise, Maedhros stood to greet him, Maglor and the twins following.

“Be welcome in Imladris, High King Gil-Galad,” he said. “It is an honor to have you here as our guest.”

The rest of the Court stood as one and bowed towards Gil-Galad.

For a long moment there was silence in the hall, Maedhros keeping his eyes fixed on Gil-Galad with some unidentifiable emotion in them as Gil-Galad stared back.

Then, at a gesture from Maglor, musicians struck up joyful music, and the strange moment passed with the coming of sound. The fae danced, and he felt a great desire to join in, but Maglor beckoned him forward to the foot of the dais, and he obeyed.

"Now, I assure you that my brother and I shall not be too busy to be courteous hosts," said the musical Fairy King, smiling, "but since you hardly came to see  _ us, _ the twins will take care of you for the most part. I trust you have no objection?"

He would be permitted to interact with them? On a constant basis? It felt too good to be true.

"None at all," he said.

Maglor beamed, the ever-present light in his face, remnant of the Trees, increasing in intensity. "Wonderful!" He turned to Elrond and Elros and gave them each a kiss on the forehead. "Be good hosts, little stars."

The half-elves nodded and linked arms with Gil-Galad, dragging him off.

"We are so very glad to see you," said Elrond.

Elros nodded in agreement. "Rooms have been prepared for you, of course, but it will take some doing to rearrange seating for dinner. Everyone was caught quite off guard by your arrival, you know."

"No one was expecting the barrier to let you in; it never allows elves."

Gil-Galad could do nothing but walk, mind whirling. "Does it admit others, then?"

(The twins wore the eight-pointed star that was the sigil of the House of Fëanor, decorating their circlets and embroidered on their clothes. What were Maedhros and Maglor playing at?)

"Why, yes! The occasional Man wanders in, and they are permitted entry if a member of the Court is willing to take responsibility for them." said Elrond.

Gil-Galad took this to mean that the unfortunate human would become trapped if any fae had use for them.

Elrond continued, "Though Elros here does declare as many as he can to be his guests. Hospitality is a serious thing."

Seeing the fear that must have flashed across his face, Elros reassured him, "You have no need to fear, cousin. Guests cannot be harmed; there are rules. The king has declared that you must be treated with high honor."

"Hence the change in seating; you will be at the high table with us."

"Why?" said Gil-Galad. He saw no reason for the kinslayers to do anything of the kind, unless--

Perhaps they  _ wanted _ him to be comfortable here. If they made him forget his purpose, or simply bespelled and trapped him, they could keep him there, harmless and content, as they did the Men they took.

(And as they might have done to the twins, whose manner betrayed no unhappiness or discomfort.)

"You are a kinsman, one whom the spells indicated to be an acceptable visitor, and High King as well," said Elros. "Now, this is where you will be staying." He gestured to the door they had stopped at.

Gil-Galad pushed it open to find a splendidly furnished room, much of it in shades of the indigo from his heraldry. It was, thankfully, less strange than other places in the palace.

"We are just down the hall if you need anything, and we will come fetch you for dinner. Dress nicely," said Elrond.

They unlinked their arms from his and went off down the hall.

Gil-Galad went in, shut the door, and dropped himself on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to give u a sneak peek of what's coming next, we have a chapter of gil-galad being Stressed, two chapters of the feast, a chapter of Stress and also breakfast, and then we gloss over most of the rest of the month or i'd never be finished ahsdjkfhdsj
> 
> also: BONE HARP BONE HARP i love the ballad thing of bone harps and maglor 100% deserves one
> 
> please leave comments and kudos if you liked it!


	4. The Lofty Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gil-Galad worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter!!! i'm hoping to update once a week or so :)
> 
> time for me to inflict my Elf Hair Headcanons on you all lol, yes they are at least somewhat plot relevant. i will give more hcs in the endnotes
> 
> the wardrobe is directly inspired by Dealing With Dragons by patricia c wrede, and some of the hair hcs are inspired by the hobbit fandom's hcs about dwarf hair :)

After a relaxing half-hour spent refraining from screaming into his pillow, Gil-Galad attempted to process his thoughts.

His young cousins were alive! That was, in all likelihood, a good thing. The worst of the rumors could be discounted.

The others, though... it was possible that Elrond and Elros were being hurt, even if he had seen no marks, and from their behavior he thought mind-turning likely. No matter; he would have time to puzzle out these things, as long as the kings did not decide to ban him from Elrond and Elros.

He sighed and sat up. Had he even  _ brought _ clothing suitable for a formal feast? Best to put everything up in the wardrobe and take stock.

He opened the wardrobe, and to his shock, found it full of exactly the kind of thing he would wear to this sort of dinner.

Well.

One problem solved, at least.

He unpacked his belongings (not many, as he had not expected to gain entry) and explored his given rooms (spacious and manifold). Washing off the dirt of travel was as pleasant as ever, and he settled in to braid his hair.

Gil-Galad might prefer simple braids, ones that merely kept his hair from his face, but the fact remained that Noldorin royalty must participate in the cultural customs of their people and wear braids indicative of various personal details, such as gender, craft, and rank.

(It was never a question of braided or unbraided, of course. Even in exile, the Noldor were not so divorced from the other Amanyar as to consider unbound hair anything but scandalous, though the painstakingly detailed fashions fell out of favor.)

He paused halfway through the braid for kingship.

Elrond and Elros nearly always wore their hair in indicative Noldorin braids. Perhaps he could find insight in them as to the twins' situation?

Elros always covered his hair (modest but out of fashion), so there would be little help from him, but Elrond did not.

Think! There had been the gender braid, and two for his crafts, architecture and healing. Gil-Galad had not noticed his family braid or its symbolic beads, but his title -- his braid of rank had declared him still to be a prince.

It was not as if there was no recognized pattern for "prisoner;" those who had escaped from Angband had made one to share their identity as former captives, and simply removing the "former" part of the pattern would do it.

Despite that, he had not seen anything of the kind, which probably meant something. He would take a closer look at dinner.

The full meaning of that thought hit him.

All the stories were quite clear: to eat their food was to owe a debt and be forever trapped. Could he refuse, though, without breaking etiquette? Worse things happened to the impolite.

He had brought food with him, but would have to ration it, not knowing how long he would stay. There was probably enough for a month; he would not starve, but that presented no options for the feast tonight, or for every other meal with the kings he presumed he would have to sit through.

He continued the long, long process of redoing his braids, deep in thought.

(Not for the first time, Gil-Galad wondered why the twins had taken so strongly to the custom, when as Sindar it would be perfectly normal to leave their hair down. Even styles that were only partially braided were gaining traction among the Noldor.

On the other hand, he would hardly put it past Maedhros and Maglor to insist on "appropriate" hair from everyone, including their hostages.)

Maybe the twins could help him with regard to dinner.

After ensuring his presentability, Gil-Galad sought them out, and found them in a nearby sunny pavilion (one firmly on the ground, thank goodness), where they sat reading.

Elros had a pile of letters beside him, and a lap desk full of stationery for answering them, while Elrond leaned back against a pillar, engrossed in a weighty tome titled  _ Principles of Dwarven Architecture as Observed in Khazad-Dûm. _ They looked up as he entered.

Elrond's face broke into a smile, and he marked his place before closing the book. "Cousin! How did you find your rooms? Is the wardrobe working?"

"It is, but I admit I know not how. What does it do?"

"It is a  _ marvel _ of woodworking and the arts of the Fair Folk," said Elros. "The wardrobe contains a selection of clothes tailored to the desires of the one who opens it, as long as what is taken out is put back later. You should have no trouble finding something for the feast."

"That was... generous of them, to let me use such a thing." Suspicious, more like.

"Nothing but the best for honored guests of Imladris," said Elrond.

"Speaking of the feast tonight," said Gil-Galad, "I was under the impression that the food here is enchanted. Will it be safe?" There was probably no saving the twins from it, given how long they had been here.

Elrond said, "It will. They will declare it so, before the feast begins."

"That is a relief," said Gil-Galad (an understatement), "but I assume that this will not be true in the future. How can I refuse what is offered me after tonight?"

"Simply eat beforehand and say that you have; that is hardly rude," said Elros. He lowered his voice. "And, as it happens, there are a few fruit trees in the orchard that are safe to eat from, the ones I planted myself."

Gil-Galad's eyes widened. That would enable him to safely stay for a long time indeed! "How might I find them?"

"Those trees, and only those, will be marked with purple ribbon. I shall make sure of it," said Elrond.

Elros gave a regretful smile to Gil-Galad. "This will be strange, but I am afraid this is how it must be done, in a place like this." He cleared his throat. "I hereby freely give permission for you to eat from the trees in the orchard that I planted, until such time as I revoke this permission and inform you of doing so."

A tiny thrill of magic rang through the air.

"There," said Elros. "You should be fine."

"Do you always have to do things this way?" Gil-Galad said, blinking away the small dazzles from his eyes.

"For extended things, yes. One-time gifts are much simpler; I need only hand you something and declare it freely given."

Gil-Galad gave a hum in answer, not knowing what to say.

* * *

Sunset, and therefore dinner, came quicker than Gil-Galad would have liked. He dressed in indigo robes from the wardrobe and steeled himself.

Elrond and Elros awaited him outside the door to escort him to the great hall.

"You will be sitting to my left," said Elros, "so follow me when we enter. There will be dancing and music after dinner, which..." He trailed off. The dangers of fairy dances were well known.

"If you wish to participate in the dance, tonight is the safest chance you will get," Elrond finished. "Tea will be served after the main course; it is magic, but not unsafe."

The hall had been filled with tables and benches since Gil-Galad had arrived, and the floating lights had multiplied to illuminate the room now that the sun had set.

Wilwarindë stood by the rightmost chair at the high table, facing the hall, but she turned to greet the trio. "You shall be just there, your majesty," she said, gesturing to the seat at the right of Maedhros's throne, as befit the guest of honor.

Elros stood at the place to the left of Wilwarindë. Idly, Gil-Galad wondered if this meant he outranked Elrond, whose seat was on the other side, past Maglor's throne. More likely, they took turns.

Past Elrond stood Erestor, whom Gil-Galad recognized as one of those who had brought the twins to Gil-Galad when they had first been released.

They did not wait long before the kings appeared and took their places. The informal chatter of the hall ceased.

Maglor said, "I am honored to announce that High King Gil-Galad is joining us tonight for the feast. Therefore, we have ensured that the meal is safe for him and will not leave him trapped here."

The two kings sat, prompting everyone else to do the same, and the first course appeared on the plates from thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so elros covers his hair and that means numenoreans mostly do the same, esp the ones (like royalty) who are v invested in What Our Illustrious Ancestor Would Think
> 
> a few thousand years later, a good chunk of gondor and nearly all the northern dunedain do the same thing
> 
> also the sindar don't have a Thing about hair so much, which means finarfin has a heart attack when galadriel comes back home with her hair down
> 
> pls leave comments and kudos if you liked it!! :)


	5. No Matter What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gil-Galad sees a vision and eats his least favorite dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody gets to call me out on my menu choices lmao, i pick foods that i like and/or like to make and that's what the characters eat
> 
> "stop describing their hair and outfits this isn't my immortal" in my defense it's a plot point
> 
> i'm gonna try to update this fic once a week or so if possible!

The first course was a flatbread topped with peppers and green onions, hot and fresh. Upon seeing other people begin to eat, and their lack of surprise at its sudden appearance, he took a bite.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

The food would not trap him here, he reminded himself in an attempt to calm his fear, but that did not mean it would not be addictive. He expected the flatbread to taste less good, somehow, when he realized that it was sinister, but it did not.

He attempted to observe his neighbors at the table, but he found Maedhros more intimidating than he could handle, and Elros seemed at ease with the proceedings.

(There should not have been a question as to whether the twins were well-fed, but under the circumstances, Gil-Galad felt a sudden great relief wash over him upon seeing Elros treat this as normal.)

Gil-Galad could not see Elrond's braids from here, but Elros had covered his hair with cloth-of-gold, and both wore shining gold jewelry; their robes were in white and purple silk, carefully nonpartisan colors. At least, they wore no red, and the only eight-pointed stars were those on their circlets. Their garments and such were an ostentatious display of riches, but one which gave Gil-Galad hope that Elros and Elrond were well-treated in other areas of their lives as well.

(There was still no sign of the Silmarils. He had expected Maedhros and Maglor to be wearing them.)

The second course, when the plates from the first had disappeared, was a bowl of gnocchi with a pesto sauce and mushrooms. It, too, was miraculously good.

Gil-Galad wondered who had made it. The pasta had to be enchanted, to taste so incredible, but it must have required great skill all the same.

"Are you enjoying your dinner?" said Maedhros. Gil-Galad tried to hide his startlement at hearing him speak so suddenly.

"Yes, very much so," Gil-Galad replied. He held back the incomprehensible string of praises that sat upon his tongue, for the sake of dignity.

Maedhros smiled (Gil-Galad had never heard of him smiling before). "I am glad." He sounded genuine, but said no more.

To Gil-Galad's right, Elros murmured, "He cooked this all himself, you know. He would never let anyone else cook for a guest so important."

Somehow, that worried him even more than the words Maedhros had spoken.

Soon the second course disappeared, and the hall took on a more relaxed atmosphere as gently steaming cups of tea appeared on saucers.

He glanced at Elros for explanation, and saw him leaned back in his chair. "This is the break before dessert," Elros explained, seeing the question in his face. "The most formal part is over."

True enough, the low rumble of conversation in the hall became a bright cacophony of speech and laughter.

"Do you have these feasts often?" asked Gil-Galad, feeling more at ease to speak.

"Not so often, no; this sort of thing is only done for special occasions. The food, though, is not out of the ordinary in the least, since he always cooks for us. Now drink your tea," said Elros, "it will show you a vision of things that have been."

Gil-Galad drank his tea. It filled his mouth with warmth and the taste of lemongrass and rosehips and other things he had no name for, and his mind with a flood of gold and silver.

The shining flood cleared to reveal a room, one more in line with traditional architecture than Imladris, likely a fortress of some sort. Upon a couch sat Maedhros and Maglor, less resplendent than they were now, and a much younger Elros and Elrond.

The children were curled up between their captors, weeping, as Maedhros and Maglor each held one of them enfolded in their arms. Gil-Galad felt his heart break, glad he had not been forced to witness that which had brought the twins to this state.

But then the kinslayers moved, and he realized with growing horror that the torment was not yet over.

Maglor had shifted away from the child he held, whom Gil-Galad could now identify as Elrond, and begun to unbind his hair. Maedhros did the same to Elros, though slower due to his missing hand.

If he had not known this to be a vision, Gil-Galad would have backed away in horror and averted his eyes. As it was, he could only watch as Elrond and Elros endured this -- this cruelty, this horror, this terrible disregard for their boundaries!

(No wonder Elros covered his hair, if he was used to his jailers doing this. It was at least a small protection.)

And what overstep! Children, by custom, had their hair cared for only by close family, usually parents. For their captors to do such a thing -- it was unthinkable.

But the children slowly calmed. Their sobs subsided as their hair was gently combed and then returned to braids. Maedhros and Maglor smiled down at them all the while, something strangely like fondness written on their features.

Gil-Galad could hardly stop watching, no matter how intrusive it felt, but guilt and shame welled up within him for seeing what ought to be private, even if it were a mockery of familial intimacy.

When Maglor and Maedhros finished their work, they gave the children kisses atop their heads and held them close. The twins breathed slowly and evenly, relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The silver and gold overtook his vision again, and he blinked his eyes open in the great hall of Imladris, mere moments after he had first drunk the tea, though the vision had been an hour long.

He fought to keep his face from betraying the horror of what he had seen, but he did not trust himself to look at Elros without weeping.

He put down his teacup and attempted to act casual. "What is it meant to show you?"

"Something you need to see," said Elros. "I myself saw what became of my favorite scarf; Elrond took it and did not tell me." Seeing Gil-Galad's stricken expression, he assured, "No one will be so intrusive as to ask about yours; we do have  _ some _ manners here."

Gil-Galad flinched in guilt at the word  _ intrusive. _

"I would prefer," he said, "not to speak of what I saw, but the tea was delicious."

The dessert course appeared, a trio of chocolate-dipped biscotti and a second cup of tea.

* * *

It is important to detail, at this juncture, the dislike that Gil-Galad bore for biscotti.

He had no quarrel with the concept; indeed, hard cookies that kept well were often the only kind of dessert one could obtain in Beleriand. However, as many do when confined to a single choice, Gil-Galad grew sick of them. The fact that he had once chipped a tooth on one did not help.

Therefore, Gil-Galad was (perfectly reasonably, in his opinion) mistrustful of biscotti at best.

Maedhros, however, was an accomplished cook and baker, and did not know of others' bad experiences with the cookie, for his never reached such levels of toughness unless very stale indeed.

His cooking had been thought extraordinary in the Blessed Realm and Beleriand both. Here, though, as the Fairy King, that which he made fell beyond the bounds of imagination.

* * *

Gil-Galad looked at his plate and wished it would not be impolite to refuse to eat the biscotti. To his right, Elros gave a small exclamation and beamed, dipping and eating a cookie with enthusiasm.

Perhaps the claim Elros had made, that he and Elrond were always well fed, was false after all. No one who had grown up on such foods as were served at this feast would be so thrilled for biscotti.

He glared at his plate once more. One of the cookies contained chocolate, another nuts of some sort, and the third dried berries. Failing to eat one would be a breach of etiquette, a potentially fatal disrespect to his host, but after that he could claim to be full. He picked up the berry cookie and looked askance at his tea.

"This is the same tea, but without the effect of visions," said Maedhros in a strangely soft voice upon noticing the direction of his gaze. "It is enchanted instead to give its imbiber energy for the coming dances."

Gil-Galad picked up the berry cookie, dunked it in his tea, and steeled himself. He took a bite and--

Oh.

It tasted  _ good. _

It was the slightest bit chewy, even, and easier to eat than any biscotti he had tried in the past. It tasted of cranberries and orange, and the tea.

Magic indeed. He wondered briefly if the tales were true, that all the Fair Folk's food was merely dust enchanted to fool the senses; surely no biscotti could truly  _ be _ this good.

(He was focused on his dessert, but did not fail to see the soft and satisfied, verging on smug, smile of Maedhros to his left.)

Gil-Galad finished all three of his biscotti and all of his tea before he noticed what he was doing.

Everyone else had eaten theirs as well, it appeared, for the plates disappeared and the tables soon after, the chairs of the long tables arranging themselves into an arc with the fae still seated. The floor, now cleared, turned to crystal through which light bent and reflected, a magical place to dance.

Maglor clapped his hands, and the music began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! please leave comments and kudos if you liked it :)


	6. Would Never Tire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Fair Folk dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to earn the "renaissance and baroque dance" tag lmao
> 
> video links!  
> [candlestick branle](https://youtu.be/RTDeymciJhA) (for the record, not a real branle)  
> [gigue](https://youtu.be/n_iivGo83Ts)  
> [voltati in ca rosina](https://youtu.be/e2BGz-6BYZI) translated as "a quere sille merillince"

The music! Enticing and lively, and Gil-Galad wanted nothing more than to rise from his seat and dance to it, but no one had yet indicated that such would be appropriate.

He did not have long to wait, however, for Elrond and Elros both stood and moved to stand, looking hopeful, before the Fairy Kings.

"Go and dance, dear ones," said Maedhros, smiling at them indulgently. He and Maglor gave each of the twins a kiss on the head.

Elros and Elrond went to the center of the newly rearranged ballroom as the music came to a cadence and paused.

The beat began again, and they danced, in intricate steps and light jumps to the music of a gigue.

Where their feet touched the ground, colorful light rang through the crystal floor with every step, forming patterns that lit the room. The dance was not long, but it was beautiful.

At the end, the Court applauded, and many of the Fair Folk took to the dance floor, forming a circle to dance a lively branle.

Gil-Galad worried. The twins had, presumably, done this before, but -- well, he did not much like the idea of them doing such things for the Court's entertainment, especially not when he had heard tales of mortals dancing themselves to death.

"They are skilled dancers, are they not?" said Maedhros. "It is always a fine evening when they perform."

Hearing this was even worse, somehow, than merely  _ guessing _ that Elrond and Elros were oftentimes made to amuse the Court in such a way.

"They are," he said, "but these dances are quite energetic; I hope they will not overtire themselves." He hoped his tone managed to convey a warning.

Maedhros seemed unconcerned. "Oh, they will exhaust themselves, just like they do every time, and Maglor and I shall have to drag them away as they insist they are not tired, and they will sleep in late tomorrow."

For some reason, Gil-Galad was not comforted by this confirmation that the dance was indeed irresistible, that Elrond and Elros had fallen victim to it before.

The song ended. Maglor spoke up from the other side of Maedhros, saying, "I believe the princes wish you to join them for a dance. Will you, guest?" And, as if to confirm what the king said, the orchestra played the opening bars of "Á Querë Sillë, Merillincë," a familiar court dance for trio.

It would be rude to refuse, and surely he could stop after one dance.

He stepped onto the dance floor, which burst into color under his feet, and joined hands with Elros and Elrond. Predictably enough, they had chosen to be the outer pair, so he would stand between them and dance the middle part.

He missed not a single step, though dance had never been his area of expertise (he was learning now, but it had hardly been important in the smoldering ruin of Beleriand), caught up in the unearthly music that nonetheless took the shape of the tune he knew, and understood why mortals danced forever.

When the song ended and the applause began, he felt a great desire to join the next dance, but pushed it down. Instead, he suggested to his partners, "Would you like to sit down? You must be out of breath after such exertions."

"Oh, no, not yet," said Elrond. "It is only three songs into the night! We shall not sit any out until at least ten."

"It is the Candlestick Branle next, which is hardly energetic; we can easily catch our breath," said Elros. "I doubt, though, that you ought to participate. You see, we do not use the candlesticks."

True to his words, the fae gathering in the center of the dance floor held no candlesticks in their right hands, but small flames that sat in the palm.

Gil-Galad obediently sat down, wishing there were a way to stop the twins from burning. He could take the place of one of them, and carry fire in their stead, but not save both.

The fire-holders began their movement about the room, with smooth steps as if gliding on air. Gil-Galad could hardly stand to look at them for long, their appearances so wondrous as to depart from reality that it hurt his eyes.

The time came for the dancers to choose partners from those who waited, and much to the dismay of Gil-Galad, Elros and Elrond were chosen quickly. He waited with bated breath through the paired dance for the handing over of the flame.

It was doubtful if he could stop the dance when they were hurt, but surely Maedhros and Maglor would do something, would they not? Elrond and Elros seemed to have no complaints of their treatment; they must be taken care of to an extent or they could never have survived so long.

He tried to silence the thought that the kings would simply heal them later, and perhaps erase the memory of pain to keep them complacent.

(He tried even harder to silence the thought that such magicks would allow them to hurt the twins over and over without them knowing.)

He braced himself as the little fires changed hands, but--

The twins did not burn.

They held the flames in their left hands as a matter of course, unharmed, as if nothing could be more natural, and the dancers wove patterns across the floor with their lights. Later, when the dance ended, he looked to their hands, which remained unmarked. How could this be?

It was not until nine dances later that he convinced the twins to sit one out, and they rejoined on the very next song despite his worry. The dancing was poised to continue through the night to dawn, none of the dancers save the twins appearing to tire in the least.

But it seemed that Maedhros had not lied when he had spoken to Gil-Galad, for after what felt like many hours, the Fairy Kings descended from their thrones and pulled Elrond and Elros from the dancing, much to their protest.

"Come along, darlings," he heard Maglor murmur, "you must sleep, you know."

"I will pick you up if I must," said Maedhros, tugging a resisting Elrond behind him.

Gil-Galad made his excuses and followed, hoping to ensure the safety of his young cousins, or at least discover more about their situation.

Nothing untoward occurred as he trailed after the little group, and soon enough he saw the kings give the twins each a goodnight hug and kiss before gently encouraging them to go to sleep. Once the bedroom doors were closed, Maedhros and Maglor went to their own rooms. Gil-Galad did the same.

Sleep did not find him easily; he lay awake, lost in thought. So much had happened; it felt as if he had been in Imladris much longer than a day.

The vision especially worried him. Had such things as he had seen been a regular occurrence? Were they still? A fool had Gil-Galad been, to fear for the twins only pain and not this sort of torture, this violation.

(To touch another's hair at all, much less to braid it, was unthinkable save between close family and life partners. This was torture, same as all the rest of what Elrond and Elros had faced, merely of a more emotional nature.)

And what fine fabrics the kings permitted Elros to cover his hair with! A meaningless concession to his comfort, a gilding of the cage; it was not as if a thin layer of cloth would stop them from doing this again and again to revel in the power they held over their prisoners.

Strange, though, how Elros and Elrond had calmed at the touch, how content they seemed to be now.

Was the answer something hidden in the braiding itself? It was said that Lúthien wove her hair into a cloak of shadows; could not the fae weave enchantment into the hair of a victim? To braid the hair of another was to assert a claim. Perhaps this was the reason behind the old custom in the first place.

The twins would have to unbind their hair to ever leave, then. He could never wish such an indignity upon them, but if it were the only way to escape the way they were treated, it might well be the lesser torment.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would look at the braids Elrond wore, and learn more of their lives. Tonight he must put out of his mind the terrible things he had seen and try to find rest.

His dreams that night were only the vision, repeated over and over till he awoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments and kudos if you liked it!!


	7. A Mortal Man in Magic Twined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which breakfast is eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, i'm back! v excited to share this chapter :) for flower symbolism purposes
> 
> bower clematis: technically "virgin's bower," means filial love  
> clematis (the normal kind): 8 petaled flower meaning ingenuity and artifice
> 
> the pastry gil-galad eats here is kouign amann

It was late morning when Gil-Galad woke from his uneasy sleep, still feeling better rested than he ever had. Sun streamed through the window, painting his room gold, and he heard again the joyous bells and music of Faerie from outside, joined by the singing of many birds.

Thinking on the previous night as he readied himself for the day, he wondered once more how Elrond and Elros had managed to hold fire in their hands.

He would have understood if they had been burned but showed no trace of injury the next day, for he doubted not that they could be easily healed, but to be seemingly immune -- it could not be possible!

And yet, the fairy folk themselves had held the fire as well. Could the ability be granted to those who did not possess it? Perhaps, along with the fae food, there were other gifts given to keep the twins trapped in this place, and this was one.

They seemed to be healthy, and were certainly kept in comfort, from what he had seen (in luxury even), but none of this meant they were not being hurt, only removed potential methods of it.

He left his room and knocked on the door to Elros’s room, hoping that he might be shown to the orchard he had spoken of.

Elros opened the door, yawning. Unlike the last time he had been awoken by Gil-Galad, his hair was covered, today in a shining hair net set with jewels. It appeared to be sea silk, though Imladris lay hundreds of miles from the sea. “Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. How are you? You seemed exhausted last night.”

Elros shrugged. “I am well. It is a pity my brother and I missed so much of the dancing -- it tends to go to dawn, you know, but we never are allowed to stay the full time. Overprotective, I call it.”

Gil-Galad, willing to grasp at any straws indicating that the kings cared for the safety of Elros and Elrond, chose to take this at face value. “I suppose they do not wish to see you hurt yourselves,” he said with caution.

"I know, but really! We are seventy-two years old; I believe we can handle a simple celebration."

"You looked about to collapse by the time you left," Gil-Galad observed dryly. "I distinctly remember, too, how often you would turn in early during those revels in the wake of Morgoth's defeat." Like the night Elrond had been taken, he realized too late, but to his relief Elros seemed to think nothing of it.

"I shall be expected for a late breakfast," said Elros. "Would you care to help me wake my brother? He may be more elven now, but he sleeps deeply indeed after great excitement, at least when he knows himself to be safe."

Another knot of worry untied itself. True, the twins were almost certainly mind-turned, but the enchantment made them happy. Things could be worse. They were safe.

(Or, at least, they thought themselves to be.)

The two of them woke Elrond, who glared at them for this rude behavior and shut the door in their faces, saying to let him dress for breakfast. Elros returned to his room to do the same as Gil-Galad awaited them in the hall.

Soon the twins emerged, dressed in green and gold, and once again wore their delicate circlets emblazoned with Fëanor’s star, which Gil-Galad found himself beginning to hate. He looked at Elrond's braids, hoping to glean more information from them as he had planned, but the young elf's hair, by inconvenient coincidence, lay not in the indicative patterns but in a braided crown across his head, adorned with jeweled flowers.

Knowing not the way, he followed them to a courtyard where breakfast was laid on a small circular table. The scent of blooming roses filled the air of the little space, and vines of ivy twined about bower clematis on the walls.

Maedhros and Maglor sat already at the table drinking tea, less resplendent than at the feast, but intimidating still. They smiled as he and the twins entered the courtyard.

“Good morning, darlings,” said Maglor, giving Elros a kiss on the cheek as he took the seat by him. Maedhros did the same to Elrond. Gil-Galad took the last available seat, looking in wonder on the meal laid for them and valiantly attempting not to show his hunger.

Elrond poured tea for Gil-Galad from a delicate porcelain teapot painted with more bower clematis, the four leaves reminiscent of the four-pointed star of Gil-Galad's heraldry.

(Did not most varieties of clematis have eight petals? He had heard it called the Fëanor flower before.)

He blinked. While he had been focused on the teapot, Elros had taken the liberty of filling his plate for him with strawberries, an omelette, and an unfamiliar pastry, none of which Gil-Galad felt safe eating though the rest of the table showed no such care.

Noticing his hesitance, Maedhros said, "Nothing have you to fear; is it not the obligation of the host to provide fare for the guest? Hospitality demands it, and I should prove myself an unworthy host, much against the customs of my people, were I to harm or enchant you upon your second meal shared in my house."

He had not said the food would not bind him. Gil-Galad sat tense, hoping to discover the truth by scrutinizing the Fairy King and finding nothing. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Elros give a tiny nod of confirmation.

That was enough; he boldly picked up the pastry and took a bite. It was an intensely buttery thing, and filled with sugar, and he felt he might weep at its perfection.

(The magic was to blame, of course. It could never be so good naturally, could it? But he felt no binding upon him, so there was some safety.)

Breakfast went quickly, after that, and Gil-Galad forced his fear down in an attempt to be a good conversation partner. When it ended, Maglor addressed Gil-Galad.

"I believe Elros and Elrond wish to give you a tour, if you feel up to it," he said. "You have seen little of our home."

"I would be honored," said Gil-Galad, causing the twins to grin and pull him from his chair, not bothering even to bow in departure from the kings in their excitement to show him around.

After leaving the courtyard, Elros said, "Let us show you to the orchard! The safe trees have been marked, and you shall need to know the way."

"Did not the king say something about the rules of hospitality, that I would not be harmed?" asked Gil-Galad.

"Binding you is not harm," said Elrond, "for you could be made very happy here. Should you eat the fairy food again, after the first day of hospitality has passed, it is taken to mean that you are willing to stay."

After that worrying sentence, and the confirmation that the twins were bound and enchanted into contentment, their conversation turned to other matters. Elrond took great pleasure in pointing out the details in the architecture that he had designed himself.

(Was it kindness, to allow him to build his own prison? To be bound by chains of his own making, by the great temptation of his craft?)

They entered a garden whose left side opened into a meadow of countless flowers, as its right became rows of vines and arbors. And just ahead, down the little winding path through the garden, lay a great orchard.

"Not everything is ripe at present, of course," said Elrond, "though the fruits can be sung into season by those with that power." Gil-Galad had never heard of such a power, but many impossible things had he seen since arriving.

"We have marked the safe trees with purple, and only those," said Elros, gesturing to a cherry tree laden with fruit and decorated by a ribbon.

"Truly, I cannot thank you enough," said Gil-Galad. "I know you said I owe you nothing for it, but if there is any way I may help you I shall, as a kinsman and a friend." In his heart, he hoped to hear an admission of need, that they desired to leave Imladris or felt themselves less than satisfied.

But Elrond smiled. "Nothing need we save your company, cousin, for while Imladris is a perfect home, and hardly lonely, as you know we have but few visitors."

"Then for you I shall stay a time, and assure you that I am by your side if you should ever be in need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> please leave comments and kudos if you liked it, they really encourage me to keep writing :)


	8. Pleasant is the Fairy Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gil-Galad theorizes and is offered a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's tuesday so it's new chapter time! i'm trying to keep a buffer and i manage to write about a chapter a week so hopefully this pattern will continue :)
> 
> sidenote for this chapter, i would recommend reading the chapters "Trophies" and "Trophies Redux" from my oneshot collection Nightmare Sequence to give you an idea of what gil-galad thinks is happening here, and also maybe the chapter "Obedience" from that too
> 
> i tried to fit the Elf Hair Headcanons about hair cutting in here but i couldn't find a good spot so they're in ch13 instead lol

The days wore away as smoothly as water flowed through the many rivers of Imladris, and Gil-Galad grew accustomed to its strangeness, eating from the orchard and drinking from the streams no matter how enticing the fare that Maedhros prepared. Yet still he glimpsed no unhappiness in Elros or Elrond, only gladness and contentment, and they spoke no word against the Fairy Kings nor showed discomfort in their presence.

And yet, he still saw no sign of the Silmarils.

It was a week into his stay when Gil-Galad began to notice the oddness of the twins themselves.

Elros and Elrond glowed, lit from within as if Calaquendi, and a terrible, impossible thought began to take form in his mind.

Perhaps Elrond  _ had _ been in danger when he was first taken, and he had panicked and done the only thing that would make him untouchable, unable to be harmed: absorbed the light of the Silmaril.

(It was hardly a stretch, given what was said about Eärendil, that he had melded with the jewel he wore.)

And if Elros had done the same -- did not the Oath demand that the twins be kept by the Fëanorians, safe from any who might take them? It would explain a great deal, starting with the absence of the Silmarils.

Then there was the behavior of Maedhros and Maglor towards the twins. They were constantly giving Elrond and Elros kisses on the head, or hugging them, or giving some other affectionate touch. Gil-Galad had even glimpsed what seemed to be repetitions of his vision, the twins possessively held in their captors' arms. He knew the braiding of their hair was enchantment, so this must be as well.

And it was no wonder that Elros and Elrond were treated well and made comfortable and shown great affection; to do otherwise to the Silmarils must be unthinkable to the Sons of Fëanor, who prized nothing more.

(He had been confused at first, having thought that the kings would as a matter of course flaunt the Silmarils. Only now did he realize that they had been doing so all along.)

At least the twins were content and in no danger, he reminded himself.

In fact, when he finally caught a glimpse of Elrond's braids in full, it was the familial braid that surprised him. It indicated one sibling, with a purple bead to symbolize Elros, and four parents.

Two of those beads were silver, one marked with the six-pointed star of Eärendil in gold, the other with a white bird. These were surprising enough; Gil-Galad had not expected Maedhros and Maglor to allow the twins anything of their family.

But it was the other two that shocked him: one red and one blue, each emblazoned with the star of Fëanor in mithril. According to these, Maedhros and Maglor were parents to Elrond and Elros, and had, if Gil-Galad guessed right, put the beads in the braids themselves.

(At least, "parents" was the closest analogue to what the Fairy Kings were to them. It was an assertion of the twins being  _ theirs, _ as the Oath demanded they be.)

He was comforted by the knowledge that they were safe, but made fearful, too. No one, he knew, had ever kept a Silmaril and failed to become greedy and grasping, and the Fairy Kings had in their possession two that lived and breathed. He knew not what it was he feared, but felt unease within his heart.

Nonetheless, despite his misgivings, his time in Faerie was far from unpleasant, for its royal family (however much it pained him to call them so, however inaccurate it was) were attentive hosts, and Maedhros especially seemed dedicated to his comfort, likely because of his responsibility as head of the household.

Once or twice he tried to ask for the freedom of Elros and Elrond, and even knowing he would be denied it felt like failure when the refusal came. Instead of continuing to ask, he chose to think on methods of rescue and escape, that he might perhaps free his young cousins without the leave of their so-called fathers (for the twins did call them so, happily and without reservation).

All in all, he happily spent a month in Imladris as an honored guest of the kings, but knew not how to proceed. His people soon would need him, and he wished not to remain forever, though the thought of abandoning Elrond and Elros tore at him.

He knew he must leave soon, for he ran low on food from the outside world, and told his cousins so, who expressed sadness at his leaving. He intended not to bring up any sensitive topic, and yet -- he must know.

"It is strange that I have not yet seen the Silmarils," he said pointedly. "I thought the kings would wish to flaunt them. Lie they in some vault impenetrable, never to see the light of day?"

But Elrond and Elros only blinked at him. "Did you not know?" said Elrond. "The Silmarils burned them, for their crimes, and they threw the gems away rather than be hurt further."

Gil-Galad felt his theories crumble to dust. "Truly?" he said, in as conversational a tone as he could muster. "I would not have guessed that they would give them up, though I am less surprised by the burning." Why did they treat the twins in such a way, then, and why go to such lengths to demonstrate control, if they were not the revered treasures they had sought?

"There are few who would hold to that which hurt them. The Enemy was a fool," said Elros.

Gil-Galad remembered the dance with the flames. The twins must have been granted some immunity, but the irony of them holding fire unburnt was not lost on him.

No matter. Everyone knew that it was the way of the Fair Folk to steal away children, though no one quite knew what happened after that. Perhaps Elros and Elrond still were prized possessions of the kings, not the Silmarils but rather treasures taken from a conquered enemy, dressed all in gold and silver and carefully hoarded and called princes in mockery.

(The reason mattered little; the fact of their treatment remained. He worried, though, for now he knew they were not quite so precious as to be above harm.)

But the reason Gil-Galad left Imladris was not only his dwindling supplies of safe food -- no, it was a conversation with King Maedhros that sparked his departure.

He had hinted, of course, that it would soon be time for him to leave, so as not to give the impression that he was willing to be trapped forever (no matter how perfect the valley might be), and soon after implying so, Maedhros found him in the halls of the palace.

"Good morrow, your majesty," said Maedhros pleasantly, in the same kind tone he always used to speak with him. There was something hidden behind it, but Gil-Galad knew not what. Ill intent, most likely.

"Good morrow," he said in return, for there was no call for rudeness.

Maedhros seemed for a moment to hesitate, but spoke nonetheless. "I wonder," said he, "if you should like these." He held out in his hand a number of hair ribbons, golden and shining in the sun.

Gil-Galad froze. He knew better than to accept any gift from the Fair Folk, much less the sort that might enchant and bind him as the twins had been.

(He knew also that anything offered three times must be accepted.)

"That is kind of you, but no; though they are lovely, I cannot accept."

The king's smile faltered, but he said, "Of course. I bid you good day." He swept off down the hall.

Knowing himself to be unsafe, he hurried in his preparations to depart, lest he become unable to escape. Yet nothing came of the fear which gripped him, for he was not stayed, only told that he would be missed.

"Farewell," said Maglor at his departure, "and safe travels! You shall reunite with your people who remain within the outer boundaries shortly; they have not left."

"And you are welcome to return whenever you wish," said Maedhros. "It is my hope that we will again have the honor of your presence soon."

Gil-Galad bowed. "I thank you for your gracious hospitality," he said, and took his leave.

He was not stopped by anyone as he left Imladris, nor was he stopped by the ring of mushrooms, but as he crossed the boundary it was as if the world turned on its head, so dizzy did he feel. As he stumbled from Faerie, the world without seemed less full of color and wonder, and the memories of his time within distorted, incompatible with the rest of Middle-Earth.

But one thing he did recall: "They live," he cried, tripping over his own feet. "They live!"

"Truly?" said Dramhor, who was  _ here, _ who was  _ safe, _ thank whatever powers had kept them so!

"I saw them. Already my thoughts grow confused, my recollection strange, but they live!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments and kudos if you liked it!! they're very motivating and absolutely make my day :)


	9. She Showed No Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elros's fiance and friends make an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter with my oc wife for elros!! i know i made her up but i'm genuinely so invested in this ship now lol, it's just two bisexuals in love (as are most of my ships tbh)
> 
> her name is inzilarî in approximated taliska (it's adûnaic but close enough) and loþetári in quenya, both meaning "flower queen"
> 
> the rest of the humans have names made with the very few taliska words we know:  
> \- wingrôth: literally this is just "sea spray seafoam" lol  
> \- vidrizimra: jewel of wisdom  
> \- haladbor: warden of stone
> 
> nothlirêda: "heir of the folk," elros and loþë's titles as the accepted future rulers of the Edain for when they make it to numenor
> 
> headcanon time: i def think the edain chose their leaders and didn't just let someone else install elros as king, that'd be weird. it was by collective agreement of the surviving edain who chose to go to numenor.  
> however, not everybody would just agree to follow elros! he might be descended from the three houses of the edain, and he might have proven himself to be a responsible leader during and after the war, but royal blood only means so much and anyway he's not descended from the leaders of the humans grouped as easterlings who are going to numenor, so they have less reason to accept him.  
> but loþetári _is_ descended from them, and pretty much everybody with reservations about elros is willing to trust her, so the Men as a whole have chosen the both of them as a pair to lead  
> they were already dating at that point obvs akjshfsjkdfh
> 
> also i DO have a timeline for this i'm not just making up years, it's written down on a tiny piece of scrap paper next to my computer and that should tell you everything you need to know about my fic planning

Gil-Galad returned to Lindon, still mostly in a daze, trying to communicate to Dramhor what he had seen. The wonders and glories fell flat on his tongue, and the memories refused to be described, but he did manage to express that he had seen Elrond and Elros, that they were alive and, at least from what he had observed, well cared-for, though clearly under enchantment and unable to leave.

(It was in only hushed whispers to Círdan that he spoke of his terrible surmises, unwilling to put them to words too loudly for fear that he was right. Or fear that he was wrong, and the truth worse.)

Lindon was better than Imladris. Safer, to be certain, and more real. And yet no earthly food compared to the sole two meals of Maedhros's make that he had eaten, nor even the fruit of the trees Elros planted; no flowers gave such sweet perfume as those in the gardens there; no music affected him so greatly as that of Maglor upon the harp of bone, and a longing awoke in his heart to return to the beauty of Faerie, which he pushed away and ignored.

He ought to finish unpacking. Once he felt settled back in, those thoughts would fade.

He put nearly everything back into its rightful place, but the flint knife from Dramhor was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard he searched. Had he even unpacked it, back in Imladris? It had not left his pack that he remembered.

His hand closed around a hilt.  _ Found it! _ he thought, and pulled the dagger from his pack.

It was not the same dagger.

The knife of flint had been plain and serviceable, but this -- this was ornate and lovely, and most noticeably, made of steel. It seemed to be old, parts of the decoration worn away, with neither a maker's mark nor one of ownership visible.

Gil-Galad felt his blood run cold. Was this a threat?

Then a new thought, worse still, came to him. He had, however unintentionally, accepted a gift from the Fair Folk, which meant he  _ owed. _ But if they had taken his own knife, perhaps it counted as an exchange? He hoped so.

* * *

Five years passed as Gil-Galad worried for his young cousins, but no one had yet managed to enter Imladris save himself, and leading the building of new lives was too vital for him to leave. Eventually, though, things ran smoothly enough for him to justify going on this diplomatic mission.

To his surprise, when he announced his leaving, a group of Men approached him, led by a young woman (though that had a different definition now that some Men had received extended lives; she was in fact forty-six).

"Greetings, your majesty," she said in perfect Sindarin. "My name is Inzilarî. Would you mind terribly if a few of my people and I joined you on your way to Imladris?"

"Of course you may, but might I ask why?" It was hardly a place to visit for no reason, even if one could enter.

She looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "We go to see Elros; what else? It has been determined among the Edain that he shall lead our peoples to the Isle of Gift, which even now takes shape. I lead in his absence, though he does correspond with us regularly."

So  _ that _ was why Elros wrote so many letters! Strange that he was permitted to do so, but Gil-Galad had seen how indulgent the kings were to their prisoners.

There was one problem, however.

"But how is he to lead, if he is unable to leave Faerie?" he asked.

"They cannot hold him forever," said Inzilarî, "for he has chosen the fate of Men, but in Faerie he cannot age and die, and they shall not kill him. They must release him one day; even now he plans for his freedom. And, of course, Prince Elrond has been providing plans for the capital city being built; he is -- well, he is remarkably insistent about his artistic vision."

"It certainly sounds like him," Gil-Galad agreed, not remarking upon the fact that she called Elrond  _ prince _ but gave Elros no title. They must be close indeed for her to do so. "If it is your wish to make the journey, when will you and your people be ready?"

"Give us two days, your majesty."

* * *

Two days later, they set off, though Gil-Galad doubted that any of those who accompanied him would be able to cross the borders.

When they came to the standing stone, not one of the Men was stopped by the barrier, and when they reached the bridge they duly removed any iron they carried without prompting.

Seeing his puzzled look, Inzilarî said, "There are some who have been here before, you know! You were only the first of the  _ elves _ to enter, or have you not heard our people's tales of Faerie?"

"I was not aware," said Gil-Galad. "I supposed that Prince Elros must have told you."

"Oh, he did; he would not let us be unprepared," she said, crossing the bridge without hesitation, "but some things can be remembered even when one wanders in or is stolen."

Gil-Galad knew not if he could cross with the dagger he had been given, but its origin was of Faerie, was it not? He steeled himself and set foot upon the bridge.

To his relief, he had no difficulty in continuing, and felt all the better for the bit of steel protection he kept with him.

When they came to the ring of mushrooms, Gil-Galad privately thought that his companions might be denied entry. To his surprise, however, they were stopped not at all, and they entered Faerie with no difficulty.

It was not, as he had expected, Wilwarindë who waited to greet them on the other side, but Elrond and Elros themselves.

"Greetings, your majesty, my lady, honored guests," said Elros in Taliska, bowing to Gil-Galad, Inzilarî, and her companions in turn. "It is my honor to welcome you all to Imladris. Will you walk with us to the palace, where we may see you situated?"

"We shall," said Inzilarî with a smile, taking his offered arm.

Gil-Galad and the rest of the Men followed the pair, who spoke as old friends, down into the valley from which joyful song rose.

Elrond fell into step beside Gil-Galad. "Welcome back, cousin," he said. "I am glad you chose to return."

"And I am glad to see you well! Tell me, how have you and your brother been?"

"We have been perfectly content, though we have missed you greatly. I have been designing the great city of the Isle of Gift, and Elros has been busy with his academic pursuits, and the gardens too. I cannot believe how he manages to find time for everything he does!"

"He and Inzilarî seem close," Gil-Galad observed, "do they know each other well?"

"Oh, certainly! And you must keep this a secret, but he is very much in love with her, and she with him."

Looking at the pair walking in the front, and how they leaned into each other, he said, "I can believe that."

They came through the valley, which now contained a few more pieces of architecture that defied nature. "I designed these," said Elrond proudly, pointing them out. "I may not be the sort for towers of silver and gold, but a few crystal spires fit this place well, I think."

Looking at the spires, the floating buildings, and the web of walkways high between them, Gil-Galad felt a sudden sympathetic vertigo for those of the Fair Folk who must live there.

Elrond drew his attention to a new building, one with a golden roof above elegant arches and elaborate stained glass. "That is the library, which is why Elros has been so busy. He is supervising a reorganization and a great copying-out of books, a number of which I believe he intends to gift to his lady."

"I must say, the new additions you have made are stunning. Are you planning more?" In a way it was soothing to hear Elrond speak of his craft flourishing, to know that it was not enchantment alone that made him content to stay.

"Yes, an addition to the greenhouse first, then a building that shall sit within one of the waterfalls, which -- oh! We have arrived." The palace stood before them, splendid as ever, and the doors opened as they approached.

"Come in," said Elros, again speaking in Taliska for the sake of his companions. "We must take you to be greeted by our fathers, and then shall you have the chance to rest before the welcome feast."

They came into the throne room where the kings awaited them, the thrones of Elrond and Elros empty, for their occupants led the guests, but the Court all in attendance.

Elrond bowed and introduced the group. "May I present High King Gil-Galad, Lady Inzilarî Nothlirêda, and her companions, the honorable Wingrôth, Vidrizimra, and Haladbor?"

"Lady Inzilarî, it is an honor to welcome you and your people as guests of my son Elros," said Maedhros. "High King, I am glad that you have returned to visit. I welcome you." He stood from his throne, and all those seated did the same. To the great surprise and mounting dread of Gil-Galad, King Maedhros descended from the dais and came to him. "Come," said Maedhros, "allow me to show you to your rooms."

Having no other choice, Gil-Galad allowed himself to be led to the same rooms as before while his traveling companions trailed after Elros in the opposite direction.

"Will they be staying elsewhere?" asked Gil-Galad, puzzled.

"Why, of course! They shall be in another wing; after all, they are hardly family."

The creeping dread that suffused him grew. He changed the subject. "My companions are guests of Elros, you said?"

Maedhros said, "They are indeed, for he cares much for their comfort and safety, and he wishes them to be under his protection. They need not fear that anything they are given shall leave them trapped, for it comes from him, and he would not do so."

Gil-Galad nodded in understanding. He understood that Inzilarî and her people were safe, as only Elros would owe anything in return for what they were given. A cruel thing to do to him, especially to dress it up as  _ protection _ as if he held any real power here, but Gil-Galad knew Maedhros to be indulgent of the twins, and this was ultimately a harmless fiction.

He also understood that, as a guest of the Fairy King, he had no such safeguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! please leave comments and kudos if you liked it :) i need Validation lol
> 
> as always, please do not steal my OC names and stuff, i'm getting tired of it

**Author's Note:**

> In light of recent events: I do not consent to my own original ideas that appear in my fics being used without permission or without credit. If you are able to pick up ideas from my fic then you are certainly able to ask me for permission, and if you are going to publish, credit is REQUIRED.
> 
> This includes names such as elenyafinwë, aþelairë, and almatáru, as well as a number of other details and ideas that appear in my works.
> 
> If you are going to use my ideas for fic that excludes LGBTQ+ characters, for reasons religious or other, I do not give you permission to use them, even with credit.


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